


Harry Potter and the Flames of Ambition

by fury1995



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fury1995/pseuds/fury1995
Summary: Harry admires ambition above all, and his biggest ambition is to stand on top of them all. Along the way he makes great friends and even greater enemies, and discovers life isn't always as it seems.
Kudos: 11





	Harry Potter and the Flames of Ambition

Chapter One

Sitting in the dark, cramped cupboard, Harry wiped the sweat and dirt out of his eyes. It was only hours earlier that he had found him pulling all the weeds out of his Aunt's prized garden. He had been forced to pluck them all out by hand, with only one small glass of water after a few hours. That had lasted until early evening time, when he was hurriedly rushed inside to prepare dinner. The sounds of the television and his Uncle and Cousins' oafish laughter were the dominating sound of the house. Each turn of the spatula or spoon was accompanied by their uproarious laughter at the sound of the moronic comedy they were no doubt watching. Harry had then been forced to listen to his uncle rag on and on about his untidy hair, and how it should be kept cut short, and how everyone would think he's a good-for-nothing drunk like his father before him. His aunt would gossip about each neighbor, usually petty things about who was seeing who and how Mrs. Philips' daughter down the road had gotten pregnant. This was only done after doting on about how Dudley was gonna grow up to be big and strong like his dad before him. This was of course usually done after his 4th plate. Harry was lucky to get half a plate, let alone seconds.

This behaviour was something Harry was used to. Things had hardly ever changed for him since he was placed on their doorstep, nearly nine and a half years ago. Since then, he had had to do the majority of the chores because 'freeloaders weren't to be tolerated and he should be grateful he has a place to sleep and food to eat.' The reason he was placed there in the first place was because his parents had both died in a car wreck when he was only a baby. But sometimes, when Harry would sleep, he would see a flash of green light and cold, cruel laughter. His aunt and uncle told him, his dad couldn't hold a steady job because he was addicted to alcohol and drugs so his mother would 'sell her body' to make ends meet. But Harry didn't quite believe that to be true. Afterall, his relatives were horrible, nasty people, so why should they tell him the truth? The truth is a great and powerful thing, something they'd never give him willingly, so they'd settle for feeding him with lies. That was how he'd grown up, on a buffet of neglect, abuse and lies. True they had never physically abused him, but sometimes it's the emotional scars that are the most painful.

While he'd never admit it now, buried deep in his heart, he desperately longed for a family and to be loved like any child should be. For a fleeting moment, he had even hoped that the Dursley's might be it. Such foolish dreams were soon snuffed out of him. It was then, at age nine, that he decided that beneath love and friendship, there burns something even more precious than them. Something that wouldn't be snuffed out so easily, something that warmed him up on cold nights. It had become his dream and his ambition, that if he couldn't have a family he would stand on top. In his vision he always pictured himself, strong and handsome, intelligent and wealthy, standing far above the Dursleys, they begging at his knees like some common beggars. It was the only thing that kept him going somewhere, it had become his obsession.

He had taken to reading in the library as much as possible, and exercising when he got the chance. Aunt Petunia didn't care what he did when his uncle was at work, as long as he got his chores done and kept out of sight. He'd finish his chores as soon as he could, so he could either read or workout his body. While he still had to wear his cousin's hand-me-downs, he was no longer as skinny or weak as he had been. He hadn't developed muscles exactly, but he was in shape and healthy. Harry-hunting was a thing of the past, his cousin's band of no-do-wells would try to chase him for hours but were way too slow. By the time he had turned ten, they had stopped altogether, no doubt choosing to go after an easier target. He'd used to purposely bomb his tests, so not to do better than Dudley, so not to be lectured and punished for it later at home. But that had stopped when he'd had his epiphany at being the best. He had studied more, and asked some of the older kids about the course work. He was by no means a genius, but he worked hard and tried with every fibre of his being. This had resulted in a rather drastic turn in his grades. He'd gone from one of the worst students in the class, to within the top five. No one dared approach him at lunch time or recess, due to Dudley, but he'd rather read his books anyways. 

It was in his cupboard that he found himself, at the start of summer. If his relatives found out what he was doing he would no doubt be beat for it. His uncle might even use the belt on him, something he usually showed great restraint in. Not because he cared for him, but because he didn't want to do too much damage in case someone came by to inspect things. He was spending most of his spare time practicing his secret. Odd things happened around young Harry. One time his aunt had gone frantic at his hair, cutting it short and extremely uneven. He was even bald in one big spot. He'd gone to bed in a sour mood, for school was to start the next day. One more thing for them to rag on that odd Harry Potter about. To his surprise, and his aunt's shock, it had all grown back. That had earned him three days in the cupboard with minimal food and water. Another time his cousin and gang had been chasing him, he had closed his eyes for only a split second, and then had found himself on top of the school. To say his aunt and uncle were furious would be a gross understatement. That had earned him a lecture about using his freakishness in public and five days in the cupboard with minimal food and water. Another memorable time had been when his teacher had accused him of cheating, right after he'd started trying harder in class. The result had been her wig turning blue. This had resulted in her wig turning blue. That had earned him a week in his cupboard with minimal food and water.

Now he sat there, trying to reflect deeply about what he'd felt when he'd done all those things. They all had one thing in common, and he needed to learn how to utilize that. It was tough to know where to start though. He'd narrowed down what all those events had in common, and had settled on, simply put desire. He'd desired to not go to school the next day even more of an outcast than he already was. He'd desired to not get beat bloody for no reason at all. While Vernon usually showed restraint, it was happy hunting for Dudley. He'd desired to get some petty revenge on his stupid school teacher, by humiliating her the way she'd been humiliating him. So, he thought to himself, if I can desire something strongly enough maybe I can will it into existence? What makes me so different like that, and is that why my aunt and uncle dislike me? Eyes squinting in the dark, it suddenly came to him. If it's something simple, maybe it'll be easier. It's dark in here, and I desperately wanna see so my eyes won't hurt. He let a feeling of helplessness overtake him and settle over him. He thought that he'd never see light again and that his relatives would never let him out. He desperately longed to see, even a tiny speck of light if even for a second. And to his great astonishment he did, resting on his pointer finger, giving a little light to his cupboard.


End file.
